The Next Great Adventure
by StormyAngel12
Summary: Severus Snape may have hated Dumbledore, but he never truly wished him dead. That night on the lightning struck tower, through the mysteries of fate and the confluence of magic, the man who believes in second chances is finally going to get one for himself.


It was fortunate, Dumbledore thought, that the ramparts of the tower were tall enough to lean against.

Fortunate for him, as he barely had the strength to stand—despite how dire the situation had grown—and also fortunate for Harry Potter. If the boy had fallen too far after Dumbledore immobilized him his invisibility cloak might have slipped, and then Dumbledore would be having a very different conversation with young Draco than the one he was having at the moment.

Different because it was paramount above all else that Harry Potter should survive the night. As it was, Dumbledore was having enough difficulty stalling Draco.

Thankfully, the boy was safely invisible and, much as it pained Dumbledore's heart to do this to him, would remain so until it was far too late for him to intervene.

After all, it was crucial that Dumbledore die at Severus' hand, and there would likely not be a better opportunity than this.

As he fought his own trembling knees to stand, and cajoled poor young Draco to the best of his ability, Albus Dumbledore reflected that he was going to leave a great many regrets behind this night.

He'd done his best to prepare Harry for the fight to come, as well as the Order, but truthfully he was horrified. Horrified for those he knew and loved, who he knew faced a long and difficult struggle. While he firmly believed that death was not the end of life, Dumbledore had never wished for so many to face it so young as he feared they soon would.

And now his time was up. Come what may this night, the curse in his hand would kill him one way or another. As it became increasingly clear that Draco Malfoy did not have it in him to murder him after all—a relief, if only for his sake—Dumbledore couldn't help but think of the many things he was leaving undone.

The Elder wand would _not_ die with him, unfortunately. But he doubted anyone would make the connection to Draco if Snape were to kill him as planned, so it might still manage to perish with the boy.

Th horcruxes remained, other than the locket that they had just retrieved. Dumbledore could wish that he'd had more time to help Harry track them down, but he had faith in Harry and his friends. They would undoubtedly rise to the challenge.

No, it was all out of his hands now. Dumbledore had done his best, he just regretted that his best had not been enough to prevent all of the heartbreak and terror soon to come.

His strength fading, Dumbledore slid a little bit down the wall, doing his best to hide it from Draco. He continued to interrogate the boy, looking for answers. Draco had no idea that Harry Potter was also there on the tower, and every piece of information the boy revealed could well be worth its weight in gold, even if Dumbledore didn't survive to share it.

Draco's hesitance. His clear terror at the way Voldemort had used him, it was enough that Dumbledore began to hope he might even be able to convince the boy to change sides. There was no telling, after all, how the fight below would turn out, and Dumbledore might manage to save Draco as well as weaken Voldemort's forces.

It was going well, Dumbledore could almost see the boy dropping his wand…but then a group of death eaters stormed out onto the tower.

A lumpy looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. Ah, Amycus.

"Dumbledore cornered!" The man said, turning to his stocky sister, who was grinning widely. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus" Dumbledore greeted them calmly. It would help to give Harry as much information as possible. "And you've brought Alecto too…charming…"

Alecto didn't like that. "Think you're little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?"

"Jokes?" Dumbledore responded, too tired to smile. "No, no, these are manners." And stalling, he silently did not add. Draco might not be a murderer at heart, but Dumbledore liked his chances a lot less with these death eaters arrived to egg the boy on.

"Do it," one of them ordered. And looking a little closer, Dumbledore was surprised, with a flicker of horror.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" Dumbledore asked, again mindful of keeping Harry informed.

"That's right," He rasped. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am." Fenrir was a monster to the core. Dumbledore could not think of a man he wished were further from Hogwarts save Voldemort himself.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual…you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right,' said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Dumbledore. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live…"

"I didn't," breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. "I didn't know he was going to come -"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out…delicious, delicious…"

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore.

"I could do you for afters, Dumbledore…"

"No," said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly." Dumbledore didn't recognize the man, but that might have been down to the way his vision was starting to fade a bit, just around the edges.

"He's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" Amycus pointed out gleefully, as Alecto giggled. "Look at him - what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," Dumbledore replied, thinking quickly. He needed to distract them from that line of thought. No need to make Voldemort suspicious about what Dumbledore had been doing… "Old age, in short…one day, perhaps, it will happen to you…if you are lucky…"

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" Amycus yelled, suddenly violent. "Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Draco, do it!"

Fortunately, there were renewed sounds of shouting from below, which served to distract them for a moment. Dumbledore couldn't make out the sounds, but it seemed to be bad news for the Death Eaters, because they looked suddenly troubled.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" said the brutal-faced man angrily. But Draco's hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

"I'll do it," Greyback snarled, moving towards Dumbledore with his hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

"I said no!" shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us-" Alecto screeched, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Severus, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene.

Dumbledore had to fight to hold back his relief. It wouldn't do to show the Death Eaters anything so obvious.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus told him. "the boy doesn't seem able-"

"Severus…" Dumbledore pleaded. He knew how the Death Eaters would take it. He knew how Harry, still safely frozen by his spell, would take it.

But most importantly of all, Dumbledore knew that Severus Snape would understand what he was pleading for.

Severus said nothing as he walked forwards and pushed Draco aside. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Severus gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. For a moment, Dumbledore hated himself, for asking this of his old friend. But it was perhaps the last thing Dumbledore could do to help those he loved.

"Severus…please…"

Severus raised his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

And with a flash of green light, Dumbledore's world vanished.

For many years, Dumbledore had pondered the Killing curse. While there were many curses which could kill when applied correctly, there was only one curse that always resulted in the death of the intended target. It was a difficult curse to cast, not the least of which because few wizards or witches ever could summon the desire to even attempt it.

But despite it's record and intended purpose, Dumbledore couldn't deny a certain curiosity as to what it felt like to be hit by the killing curse. It was a bit like the average muggle's morbid curiosity regarding the guillotine. Did the head continue to survive for even a short while? Was it truly painless?

Dumbledore was grateful to discover that the killing curse was in fact painless. Or at least, he did not _feel_ any pain. Then again, he had not been sure what to expect. No one who had ever been on the receiving end of the curse had lived to tell the tale.

No one but Harry Potter, of course, who had been far too young to communicate or remember his experience at the time.

Curiously, Dumbledore had not thought that there would be a smooth continuation of consciousness. He had thought that stepping on to the next great adventure would involve something rather like waking up, and yet…he wasn't quite asleep.

He tried to feel for his surroundings, and Dumbledore realized that he had closed his eyes almost reflexively at the green flash of light. He opened them, curious to realize that it still felt like he had a body.

The sights that greeted him were astonishing. It was as if he had stepped into the pensieve, but in order to view his own memories. Only, instead of replaying them from the outside, his memories seemed to be flowing backwards and he was watching them from within his own eyes.

Was this what it meant to watch one's life flash before their eyes? Dumbledore chuckled. If so, this was going to be a rather long movie, even as accelerated as things seemed to be.

He watched the year flow by, the meetings with various teachers and students. His sessions with Snape and with Harry. Punctuated intermittently with meetings with the Order of the Pheonix. It had been a hectic year, scrambling desperately to prepare everyone who would listen for the battle to come. Even with the ministry no longer sticking its head in the sand, Dumbledore could wish they had been more willing to work with him.

Then the time flowed beyond the start of the year, into the summer. Dumbledore watched grimly as he fell for Voldemort's trap, wearing the ring that he _knew_ was a horcrux, merely because it was the Hollow he had most longed for. Perhaps it had made Voldemort's planned assassination easier to accept, but Dumbledore couldn't help cursing himself for his own foolishness. He had made far too many mistakes.

A fresh reminder of that came shortly thereafter, when he watched as Harry trashed his office in a fit of rage. Dumbledore was overcome with shame yet again, at the reminder of his biggest failure. How he had left young Harry in ignorance in the vain hope of protecting him from the burden of the prophecy. How his failure had cost Sirius his life.

And yet, his life continued to play before him. The year of difficulty with the ministry. How powerless he was to protect the students from Umbridge's depredations. How Lucius played Fudge like a fiddle, and the way the Dark Lord had benefitted from all the time he'd needed to rebuild his strength. Perhaps if Dumbledore had seen the way the ministry had been headed before Voldemort's return he might have been in a position to do something about it, but he had been spending all of his free time pursuing his research into Voldemort's background. That had been vital work, as he knew, but it had come at a heavy cost.

Then, the triwizard tournament. Dumbledore watched, horrified, as Harry Potter returned with Cedric Diggory's body. How Barty Crouch Jr. spent the entire year wasting his time with false leads and pretended promises to help him protect the boy. The younger Crouch's impersonation had been impeccable, but Dumbledore couldn't help wishing that he had caught the man out somehow. So much pain might have been avoided.

Of course, Dumbledore had been somewhat distracted by the revelation that Peter Pettigrew, and _not_ Sirius Black, had been the traitor. He had been trying to track the man down in an attempt to exonerate Sirius, on top of his efforts research horcruxes and convince the ministry to stop hunting Sirius.

In retrospect, Dumbledore could see that what had hurt his efforts the most had been things he could never have foreseen. Barty Crouch's son. Peter Pettigrew being the actual secret keeper. Moody's impersonation.

Knowing as he did now, Dumbledore would have done so much differently, but he had honestly done his best with the facts available to him at the time.

His rumination carried him through the rest of Harry Potter's third and second years, both characterized by fruitless struggles to figure out how Sirius Black and Slytherin's Monster kept stalking the halls despite his best efforts. In those and every year, Dumbledore was continually struck by how amazing Harry Potter was. How the boy had fought for his friends, sacrificing himself without even a second's thought for those he loved.

If only, Dumbledore thought, he'd never had to give so much of himself. If only I had been able to protect him.

And suddenly, the peculiar rewinding of his life shuddered to a stop. Sensation flooded back into his body, as Dumbledore came face to face with a young Harry Potter. He remembered this, far back in Mr. Potter's first year, he had sat with the boy in the medical wing. Harry had just awoken from his confrontation with the possessed Quirrell, and had asked Dumbledore for answers.

"The truth." Dumbledore had sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

His words echoed in his ears, as Dumbledore realized that he had just repeated them aloud, and most noteably, that time had begun to resume it's regular course.

"Well…Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Stunned, Dumbledore's mind was reeling. Just what exactly was happening here?

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc. All of the dialogue and a large part of the descriptions are copied from the books, so I don't own that either.

Author's Note: There's a great number of Time Travel Fix-it fic's out there, usually involving Harry or one of his friends. A large number of them go on to bash Dumbledore with no abandon, retconning things and coming up with fanon so that he's this twisted caricature of a monster who scarcely resembles the man JK Rowling actually wrote. That won't be happening here. This will be a Peggy-sue fic for Dumbledore that will be trying to keep in character with Dumbledore insofar as my poor skills can manage. I'm hoping that such a novel approach will keep things interesting. let me know what you think!


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